Therapy
by rhapsodybree
Summary: CC Babcock was the epitome of fashion, the ultimate ice queen in the cold, and most certainly not the blubbering mess currently on the Sheffield doorstep.


Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.

* * *

The doorbell sounded.

Standing up from the lounge room floor where her attention was divided between folding clothes and keeping a watchful eye on her touching-and-gripping-anything-that-I-can-possibly-reach eleven month old babies, Fran Sheffield - nee Fine - flicked a towel over her shoulder as she shouted out in her characteristically loud nasal voice. 'I'll get it.'

'Mrs Sheffield, that is my job,' admonished Niles, appearing from around the corner, feather duster in hand.

'Flip you for it?' teased Fran as she reached him.

'Rock, paper, scissors?' suggested Niles as the doorbell was pressed insistently once again. 'Coming!' shouted Fran before she looked back at the butler. 'You know, I never did get that game. How does paper beat rock? If you were throwing a rock at me, how much protection do you think that flimsy piece of paper is going to be?'

'Mrs Sheffield,' said Niles indulgingly.

'Although, granted a rock would be useful with the scissors...'

'Aright, alright,' shouted Fran as she made her way to the door. 'Keep it in your pants,' she said, rolling her eyes at the amused departing Niles as she stepped up to the door.

Throwing open the wooden door, her welcome died on her lips as she took in the sight before her.

There stood CC Babcock - but it was CC Babcock as she had never seen her before: grey tracksuit pants were matched with a pink cotton shirt, Jimmy Choos adorned her feet, hair was in a ponytail, several strands hanging free, a baby bag hanging off one shoulder and a baby resting on her other hip.

A crying baby, and one with a suspiciously smelly diaper, it must be mentioned.

And let it not be neglected to mention that whilst it may not have been raining outside, the volume of tears running down the blonde woman's cheeks put Niagara Falls to shame.

'CC?' asked a bemused Fran.

'Nanny Fine!' cried CC as she stepped in, thrusting her baby boy at Fran. 'Take him.' Fran didn't have a say in the matter as the distraught woman thrust Daniel toward her, her arms struggling to work quick enough. 'I can't do this anymore.'

It was at this moment that Niles arrived back in the foyer. 'Never mind dear, there will be other employers desperate enough to employ you.'

'Niles!' admonished Fran as she rested the crying four month old boy against her shoulder.

'I meant it with love,' protested the butler. It is now that CC turns to her husband for the first time and another deluge begins.

Niles needed no further chastising as he moved toward his distressed wife.

She wasn't having a bar of it. 'Stay away from me,' she whispered harshly, hands raised as she looked at the floor fiercely. He didn't have the heart - or the balls - to let another comment rip.

Fran made her decision then and there.

'Niles, take your son,' ordered the determined woman. 'CC, sit.' Somewhere at the back of her mind, she was gratified to see the woman obey her, but now certainly wasn't the time for small victories. Seeing the uncertainty in her friend's eyes, she rolled her eyes and shooed him on. 'I've got this all sorted. Go put a diaper on that kid before my mother arrives at the house and wants to know what fertiliser we're using. Shoo.'

Scooping up the wide-eyed Eve from inside the clothes basket and Jonah from where he was sucking on the television remote amongst the what-were-clean-folded-stacked-clothes-and-now-represented-a-war-zone mess, Fran headed for her husband's study.

She didn't bother knocking. Well indeed, how was she supposed to with both arms full of her kids anyway?

'Honey, you're on baby duty,' she declared to the man seated at the desk, his hair still as black and grey as ever, though his face just a little more confused than usual as Maxwell Sheffield removed his glasses from the bridge of his nose.

'Darling?' asked Maxwell. 'I'm rather busy here...'

'You're on baby duty,' Fran repeated, ploughing straight on ahead. 'I'm going out.'

'Out?' asked Maxwell in confusion, even as he pushed back his chair slightly and accepted his twins into his lap. Jonah instantly went for his tie and Eve's little arms stretched out for any paperwork within reach. Pushing back further to maintain the distance between his desk and his youngest daughter's prying hands, he looked at his determined wife. 'Darling, what is going on?'

'I'm mounting an intervention.'

'Good lord, has your aunty Jan and cousin Cindy come by again?' he groaned in pain.

Fran flashed Maxwell a look before she opened her mouth to expand, but the loud sob that wafted through the doorway did all the explaining. 'Is that CC?' asked Maxwell in morbid fascination.

'Mm-hmm,' nodded Fran. 'And THAT is what I will be dealing with,' she emphasised with a raised arm and pointed finger.

'Enjoy yourself,' responded Sheffield meekly, settling Jonah and Eve into a more comfortable position in his arms, Eve now attempting to stand on his lap and Jonah digging into his pocket.

Fran stepped closer for a quick kiss to her husband's lips, and ran her hands over her children's soft dark hair. 'All she needs is a good dose of therapy. We're going for therapy.'

'I'm sure I've got her psychiatrist's number around here somewhere,' said Maxwell, eyes searching his desk as he realised that his hands were in no position to do any searching.

'Psyatrist, schmaisist,' scoffed Fran flapping her hands in her husband's direction. 'We're doing retail therapy. You should see my Aunt Carol. Let her loose in the $2 shop and she was miraculously cured.'

That stopped him. 'You're taking CC Babcock shopping?' he asked, not without a degree of incredulity.

'Yeah,' responded Fran in a tone of perfect obviousness. Her expression then morphed into one of intense questioning as her eyes narrowed in on her husband. 'And there's no one better for the job,' blustered the producer quickly.

'Hmm,' she hummed and let it go.

Almost at the door she turned once again. 'Oh and remember, Gracie's home late tonight, and don't forget that the twins have their nap at 3 and the bottles are in the fridge and...'

'Fran,' interrupted Maxwell with a laugh. 'I can handle it all.'

'Somehow I seriously doubt that,' she muttered under breath.

'What was that dear?' enquired Maxwell as she flashed him a big smile.

'Nothing dear,' she simpered, before both winced as a keening cry came from beyond them. 'Time to go.'

* * *

A haircut, manicure, pedicure, several hundred dollars worth of new clothes, an unwanted conversation with cousin Ollie, new cosmetics, a doctor's appointment and half - correction, several halfs - of a chocolate cake later, Fran and CC stepped back into the Sheffield residence.

'Hello?' called Fran, as she shrugged off her coat and hung it up, CC not far behind.

There was no answer. Both women looked at each other. 'The house is never this quiet. Unless my Great Aunt Alice is here, then you can't find anyone.'

Stepping into the lounge room, Fran pressed her hand to her heart at what she saw. 'Aaww.'

Seated in the stuffed armchair was Maxwell Sheffield, cushions discarded nearby in lieu of two little bodies pressed into his: Jonah was curled up into a small ball on his father's chest, small fingers gripping the shirt. Eve couldn't be more different to her brother, her little body sprawled back against her father's hip, arms and legs akimbo as Maxwell's hand on her stomach held her in place.

Gracie sat close by on the other armchair, legs curled beneath her as a thick book tottered perilously on the arm edge, one hand negligibly holding it in place, with the other hand providing a cushion for her sleeping head.

Niles had their back to them on the lounge, and as the two women stepped around, they saw the full picture. The butler's head had fallen forward, his chin resting against his chest, not far from where his son was cradled, both hands protectively holding his precious bundle in place.

'Quick, where's the camera?' suggested Fran in a loud whisper. 'We should take a photo.'

'Over my dead body,' grumbled Niles, startling Fran.

'We can arrange that,' snapped back CC quickly.

Maxwell's eyes began to shutter open as both Fran and Niles' heads flew to CC.

The blonde woman had a huge smile plastered across her face. 'I feel so much better!' she cried out, thrilled at her insult. She threw herself down onto the couch next to her husband and thoroughly kissed him.

'Isn't that love?' sighed Fran as she plucked Gracie's book from its shaky perch on the chair and slid onto the arm of her husband's chair.

'Mmm,' confirmed Maxwell groggily as he lifted his hand from his daughter and placed it on his Fran's upper thigh. 'Ev'rything 'k?' he mumbled.

'Everything's okay,' promised Fran. 'Better than Barbra Streisand singing live.'

'That good hm?' confirmed Maxwell as he became more alert. 'Anything I need to think about?'

'Mm no,' said Fran happily as she buried one hand in her husband's thick hair. 'Unless you consider, another baby in seven months something worth losing sleep over.'

As Maxwell tried to process what he had just been told, the sleepy voice of his middle daughter interrupted his thoughts. 'Are they home yet?' asked Gracie, stretching out her long arms.

Hearing no answer, the teenager looked around at the crowded lounge room in confusion. 'Why is Niles on the floor?'


End file.
